To Err is Human (WIP)
by DaBear
Summary: Death is just the beginning of this adventure.
1. Dead Before Dawn

To Err is Human  
A Buffy the Vampire Slayer FanFiction  
by DaBear  
  
~~~~  
  
_The characters in this story do not belong to me, they belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and 20th Century Fox. Only the story is mine, that and way too many sci-fi books.   
  
The man who invented the eraser had the human race pretty well sized up._

**9:49 p.m. Gent, Belgium 2012**

"This the last time _he_ gets to come up with the bloody plan." Complains the blond man standing on the corner, who is seemingly talking to himself, as there is no one else in view. His demeanor is one of confidence, as if he weren't standing in one of the worst parts of the city on a dark street corner at nearly 10 o'clock in the evening. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes from his black duster he lights the last one up and then causally tosses the empty pack over his shoulder. Taking a long drag of smoke into his lungs he waits for the inevitable reply with a smirk on his face.

{What? You don't like my plans?} Comes the sarcastic comment through the blondes' earpiece. 

With a grin to himself at how predictable his partner is he replied, {No, you sod, I bloody well do not like your plans. I either end up getting shot at or being used for bait. Or both.} Says the bleached blond.

{So? Not really seeing a down side here.} Came the reply from the earpiece.

{Sod off, Chucky.) Spike says with a chuckle.

{I told you stop calling me that Spike, or I'll stake your ass out for a suntan.} Comes the aggravated tone through the vampires' earpiece.

{You and what army _Chucky_?}

{Shut up both of you.} Comes the soft reply in both men's earpiece's.

{He started it Wolf.}

{Did not you wanker.}

{Did too.}

{How old are you two again?} sighed the quite voice.

{Well, I bloody well didn't start it.}

{Look, Spike, the Agalivanen Demon is nearly here and if you scare it away we miss him and we're out 10 grand. So shut it.} Says the voice.

{Yeah, yeah… How much time we got?}

{About 3 minutes.}

In the alley across the street from where the blond vampire is standing two forms are hidden in the darkness. One, a heavily built black man, is almost completely obscured in the shadows wearing dark denim jacket and pants, the only telltale of his presence is the glint of light off his heavy war axe. The other is a slight man, well built, almost stocky, but not particularly tall, who is crouching in the darkness with his face raised to the sky and is taking an occasional sniff of the surrounding area. With his eyes glinting a feral yellow in the darkness and his protruding canines he is obviously not human. Reaching up to the mike on his neck he flicks it off and asks Gunn "You sure this is the last one he needs?"

"Yeah," comes Gunns' reply from out of the darkness "Researched it and came up with the number 42 from 5 different sources. 42 vampire hearts needed to open the gate and end the world. Yadda, yadda, yadda."

"Ok then," Comes the reply from the redheaded,  "Stop him tonight, get 10 grand, save the world." 

"Yup, sounds like a plan."

Taking a sniff at the air, the red-haired man flips his mike back on and tells the vampire bait {T minus 1 and counting.}

{Ready here, Wolf.}

First contact with the demon comes with a near subliminal whine, a noise near the bottom of the human registry, an itching at the eardrums. Gunn absently rubs his baldhead and mutters "I hate this part." 

With a grimace of pain, because the sound is much clearer and more painful to him,Wolf reaches into his black leather bomber jacket and pulls out a package of earplugs and puts them in. "Who's the one with here with preternatural hearing?" he mutters in pain to Gunn.

{Know what you mean, mate.} Says the aggrieved vampire as he puts in his ear plugs also.

The Agalivanen Demon is an uncommon demon, there are no naturally occurring ones on the planet, the only why they can be here is if they are summoned. They use sound as a weapon, using it to cause fear, paralysis and even death in its prey. The demon itself isn't that formidable of a warrior, the problem is getting past the sound to attack it. 

Out of the darkness lurches the demon, standing at only 5 feet tall, with a moldy greenish exterior it is not very scary looking. Weird, yes. Scary, no. With its fish-like mouth gaping open and shut emitting a sound that has caused terror in many a man it stalks down the street on legs with one too many joints, giving it a lurching, somewhat ludicrous appearance. It lurches towards the seemingly petrified vampire with its three-digit hands grasping a small knife and a leather bag. As it gets closer it fails to get the normal reaction out of the vampire, that of the subject feinting in abject terror. As it comes to a halt in front of the vampire, Spike flashes a grin at it and says in an everyday tone. "Sorry, mate, can't hear ya. What'd ya say?"

The Agalivanen Demon just blinked at the blond vampire. "Not the smartest fella are you?" says Spike as he vamps out and jumps at the demon. Using more speed then his twisted form suggests the demon avoids Spikes claws and makes a break towards the alley across the street. 

The same alley it so happens that the other two demon hunters are lying in wait in.

"He missed. You owe me 10 bucks wolf-man." Says Gunn as he hefts the large axe in his hands and settles into a stance to wait for the demon to head into the alley.

Wolf just raises his eyebrow in reply even though Gunn can't see him and morph's further into his half wolf form. Hunching over in the alley he gains bulk and his face shifts forward as a muzzle filled with very sharp teeth appears. His fingers curl, thicken and grow 2 inch long blackened claws and his eyes… his eyes blaze in the darkness.

As the demon turns the corner into the alley and Gunn raises his axe to strike, Wolf bounds forward past his teammate and with a quick double swipe of his claws the Agalivanen Demon falls to the ground in two pieces, it's spine severed, leaking brownish-green goo onto the concrete.

"Well, damn wolf-man. That was anticlimactic." Sighs Gunn as he lowers his axe.

Just then Spike comes hurtling around the corner to see the dead demon laying in two pieces on the ground and his teammate wolfed out and comes lurching to a sudden stop. "Well, right then" he mutters with a cough, a strained smile coming to his face as he scratches the back of his head. "Let's go get the money."

Chuckling to himself Gunn reaches into his pocket and pulls out an industrial sized plastic bag and says to Spike "You missed Willy, and fearless leader here had to take down the bad guy. Pay up."

"Don't call me that wanker." Mutters the vampire as he tries to lift the demons corpse into the air without getting any goo on himself, and dumps the body into the bag. 

In the mouth of the alley Wolf pulls out a cellular phone from the inside pocket of his jacket and hits a speed dial button as his wolfen features revert back to his human mask of normalcy. On his heavily furred face the hair recedes back to a standard goatee and mustache with small sideburns. His mane of hair shrinks till it's only a light auburn shoulder length. And his muzzle just melds back into his face leaving only a slight lengthening of the canines to show that it was ever there. The only things to not revert back are his eyes, ever since the werewolf had fully mastered his change, his eyes have been a luminescent yellow. Glowing slightly in the dark, Wolf reaches up and pulls the sunglasses that were sitting on top of his head down over his eyes to cover the slight glow. 

"Target acquired and dealt with. Where's the drop off?"

As the vampire and the human are arguing back and forth over 10 dollars and the redheaded werewolf is talking on the phone to their contact at the Council none of the three notice the lean man in BDU's walking calmly down the alleyway towards them. None of them see as the man pulls out a large machine pistol, a H&K SP89. None of them notice's till the man grins maniacally and pulls back the slide. Then all three sets of eyes look up in the darkness. All three sets widen in surprise as the man takes aim and begins to pull the trigger. 

With a speed unimaginable to anyone who hasn't seen a Slayer in action Wolf bounds down the alley. Blurring in the eyes of everyone there he leaps his startled teammates with ease and is hurtling down the alley towards the man with the gun. All he can think is that the demon had backup and he missed it, his mind absently notes the fact that the man was downwind of him. Cursing himself for a fool, Wolf resolves in the future to more careful about that. His image blurs as fangs emerge from his mouth, claws grow out from his fingers and a blood-curdling howl erupts from his throat.

All of this occurred in a blink of an eye, a twitch of a finger. 

As the first of the 9mm rounds leave the barrel of the H&K SP89, Wolf is already past his startled teammates. As the third round is fired the werewolf's transformation is complete. As the fifth round emerges the howl is already rebounding off of the surrounding alley walls. 

Then the first 9mm round impacts. 

It impacts and rips through the werewolf. Wolf is expecting some pain. After all he had been shot before. But he is also expecting his preternatural healing to take effect. He expects the bullet wounds to heal up almost as soon as they are made. After all this is what has happened every other time he had been shot. 

As the pain in his chest doesn't fade, he realizes that there was one time when being shot didn't work that way. The one time in Egypt…

The time he was being hunted, the time where he had been lucky to escape with his life.

Hunted by a man who knew what Wolf was. Knew how to hunt werewolves. Had been hunting them in fact longer then Wolf had been one. 

So when the pain didn't stop, but in fact got worse, as if someone had poured molten lead into his wounds, Wolf knew he was in trouble. He recognized the sensation of The Burn. The Burn as the silver enters his body. The Burn as it disturbs the balance of his energy. Throws all his healing and shifting abilities out of order. The silver absorbs and redirects his essence, and in doing so it forces the change back into human.

As the second and third bullets tore into Wolf's chest, he tries desperately to twist his body away from the hail of bullets. Tries to change his direction, tries desperately to escape the pain. All to no avail. His slower human form is unable to get out of the way. His weaker human form is unable to stop the deluge of bullets tearing into his body.

The man with the gun calmly keeps the gun in line with his target and in the space of 5 seconds had pumped all 30 rounds of silver into the werewolf.

As Wolf lays on the ground coughing up blood the man steps out from the shadows. Wolf had only meet the man twice in his life up until tonight. Both times the man had tried his damnedest to end Wolf's existence. 

Cain.

As Wolf's sight dims and his gasping breath gurgles in his chest the last thing he hears is "Got ya."


	2. Memories and Fears

To Err is Human Part 2 - see part one for disclaimers

~~~~

Darkness. 

It surrounds him. 

Warm and comforting. 

Quiet. 

Contemplative.

Soothing.

Then the nightmares start. 

Flashes of memory interspersed with feelings of guilt, terror and helplessness. Rage and fear fight for equal footing in his emotions. Images of bodies, bloody and torn assault his mind. Darkness rears up and claws at the tattered remnants of his soul

//_Et ne nos inducas in temptationem_, _sed libera nos a malo_,//

//For thine is the Kingdom…//

Dead friends. 

Dead lovers. 

Dead dreams.

//Funny,// Wolf thinks.  // Thought that the 'This is Your Life' thing was supposed to be happen BEFORE I died. //

As a scene plays through his consciousness Wolf reaches out and stops the instant replay of his life and watches as the scenes slowly unfold. // Here, // he thinks // This is the point in my life where I can point and say "Here is where it all started to go downhill." This was the beginning of the end. //

~~~~

**Detroit, MI July, 2001**

RRRRIIIIINNNNNGGGG

RRRRIIIIINNNNNGGGG

RRRRIIII…

In the darkness of the predawn light a man rolls off the futon mattress in the corner of the loft apartment and stumbles across the room to the old style rotary phone by the door. Picking it up the man answers in a sleepy voice "Yeah?"

{It's Xander.} The man jerks at the voice and rub his eyes.

{Hey.} he says in a cautious tone. It's obvious he was not expecting a phone call from this individual.

(Look man, I know we haven't been on the best of terms since… well, anyway we need your help, man. Buffy…} Xander breaks off with a hitch in his voice. {Buffy's dead.}

{Damn.} When he heard Xander's voice on the phone this wasn't the expected conversation. {How?}

Xander explains the whole fiasco with Glory, Dawn and the portal. {Look man, can I get you to come down and help us out? I know that there are some unresolved issues here, but we really need some help. The usual die down with the undead and demon communities during the summer didn't happen. We are all strung out and hurting.}

After a few seconds of thought, and a quick glance around the empty apartment, the man replies {Yeah, I can be there in four days.}

{Thanks, Oz.}

~~~~

**Sunnydale, CA March, 2002**

Staring down at the body his friend, Oz waited for the feelings to hit him. Waited for the tears, the anger, the remorse. But they didn't come. He was numb inside. To many people dead it to little a time, he thought. To many people he knew, cared about, loved.

The cult of vampires had been in town for a little over a month and he and the other Slayerettes had run into them on numerous occasions. They had figured that the cult was not a serious threat, or at least not one that was out of the ordinary. That was before the Spring Equinox, which was when the cult had swung into full gear and had gone ahead with their plan to open the Hellmouth. All the skirmishes up until then had been to cover the kidnappings. The spell they were going to use was a marvel in its simplicity. Simply kill 300 or more people to feed the spell and the overwhelming life energy would burst the seals kept on the Hellmouth. Easy, simple and deadly.

They had been too late to stop the spell, but Willow, Giles and Tara had had a backup plan to redirect the energy away from the Hellmouth, by releasing it up into the atmosphere rather then down into the Hellmouth. They had been safe from the backlash caused by their spell inside their circle. He had been safe from the spells energy due to the amulet that the girls had wiped up. Xander on the other hand…

Xander had lost his amulet during the battle and hadn't noticed it's loss. The unleashed life energies had fried his synapses and caused his blood vessels to explode. Xander has blood leaking from his very pores. So very much blood. The smell of burnt hair is overwhelming in the ruined library.

In the background he hears Willow and Tara weeping while Giles tries to comfort them. 

Staring up into the darkness, gazing at the stars far, far above. Oz lets silent tears fall from his eyes as he realizes that there was another friend he was not going to be able to say goodbye to.

~~~~

**Sunnydale, CA August 2003**

Oz wonders if he is becoming used to this. Used to the loss of the ones he cares about. Used to the mind numbing sorrow of knowing he could have stopped it if he had been faster, better, stronger, smarter…

Dawns' body lies upon the alter. Her cooling blood pooling in the bowl at the foot of the table. She was 18 today, Oz thought. Senior in high school and already accepted to Oxford. Giles' old school connections got her a spot. She was going to get out of all this in just a few months. Just a few more…

Giles is lying in the corner, his body broken in so many places that the young man has trouble following his limbs from start to finish. His still warm heart is sitting atop a platter near Dawn's head. A part of the ritual, maybe. Or maybe just a reminder of the power of the demon that had taken them. The demon that was going to use Dawn's energy to open a portal; where to, they had never found out. And now it really didn't matter.

The unnamed demons corpse lays in pieces upon the floor of the cavern. His prowess in battle had been no match for a werewolf in full rage. Oz just sits naked on the floor of the cavern staring at Dawn's face rocking back and forth, his arms wrapped around his knees. Waiting for Willow and Tara to find him.

She only had a few more months to go, Oz thought. Just a few more…

~~~~

**Los Angeles, CA October, 2004**

The pale grey gravestone seems to stare back at the young man, silently reproachful. 

Cordelia Chase  
1981 – 2004  
Beloved Daughter and Friend  
A spark of hope in a world of darkness.

Over the last three years the LA team and the Sunnydale one had come to rely on each other more and more. He and the others had been surprised in the changes that had occurred in Cordy and Wes. Both had grown up and Oz had been proud to call them friends. He had gone to a few of her auditions and the three plays that she had stared in. She definitely had talent, just no real luck it seems. She had come to a few of his gigs, too. They had become close, not in the romantic way. But they had become very good friends. His lack of a need to fill silence with empty words had appealed to her innate sense of always telling the truth, tact be damned. 

Now most of the LA team was dead. Wes's body had been flown home to England to be buried in his families plot. Angel's remains, what little is left of a vampire after it has had a wooden stake run through its heart, is in an urn next to Buffy's tombstone.

And Cordy, she was buried here in Los Angeles next to her father. No one knows where her mother is.

Wolfram & Hart had sent assassins after Angel. The assassins had kidnapped Wes and Cordelia and held them hostage in exchange for Angel. When Angel had gone to give himself up, the assassins had killed Wes and Cordy and then staked Angel. 

Gunn was the one who had gotten in touch with Oz. After telling Oz what had happened, Spike and Oz had gone down to LA to fulfil a little retribution. They hunted down the assassins and send back pieces to Wolfram & Hart, and after finding the last of them in Florida they had blown the offices of Wolfram & Hart off the face of the planet with some of the ordinace that Oz had found in Xander's storage unit. Seems he had taken more then the rocket launcher during the Judge incident.

None of the three had ever been implicated in the bombing or the deaths. And the viciousness of the retribution had kept the underworld population under control for the last few months. Basically no one had wanted to piss any of the Slayerettes off.

Oz was here in LA paying his respects and saying goodbye to Cordy, the Hellmouth is finally closed, seemingly on its own, and LA is under control, Gunn and Spike are taking care of it. There are too many bad memories here. Since the Hellmouth is closed there is no reason to stay in that damned town any longer and the Council had contacted Willow and had asked if she would look into a problem in Chicago for them.

~~~~

**Chicago, IL January 2005**

The young redhead is standing in the main lobby of the Hilton. Numbly shaking his head as he looks at the slaughter that surrounds him. The slaughter that he is responsible for. The deaths of over 250 people. He doesn't know what started it, he only knows how it finished. For the first time in 4 years the young man wished that he had not gained control over the wolf. If it was still linked to the moon the massacre that surrounds him would not have happened. //But they would still be dead.//

Collapsing to his knees next to two bodies that were less savaged then the others. Oz gently strokes the hair back from a pale face that he had hoped to know for the rest of his life. Had hoped that one day she would return the love he had so foolishly squandered. Now it is to late. Avoiding looking at the other bodies surrounding him, Oz gets to his feet and for the first time realized that he was not naked. The change usually rips the clothes that he was wearing beyond repair. This time it seems he made the cloths shift with him. 

Filing that thought away in his "To think about later." File, Oz hears sirens in the distance. 

The slaughter of 278 people in the lobby of the Chicago Hilton took less then 3 minutes. From the enraged shouts of the mob as they attacked the two wiccans to the final scream for mercy as the last man had his spine ripped out by the claws of a mythical beast that he had not believed existed just a few minutes before.

Shaking himself out Oz turns one last time to the bodies of his former lover and her girlfriend. With tears falling down his face the young werewolf says his goodbyes to the life that he had hoped for and then walked out the front doors of the hotel just seconds before the first squad car arrived.


	3. You want me to do what?

To Err is Human Part Three - see part one for disclaimers

~~~~

"That's not the way it has to be, kid."

All at once, with those words, the world snaps into focus, light bursts through the darkness surrounding him, and the memories that Wolf has had buried for so long retreat to their cages. The cages that he had built for them over the last 10 years of doubt and regret.

With the last scene of death still fresh in his thoughts, and the pain from the silver still causing psychosomatic twinges Wolf looks around the room he finds himself in and comments, "So this is Hell? Must say it's a lot nicer then I was led to believe."

"Nah kid, this ain't hell." As he is talking to Wolf, the man across the table in the really bad leisure suit is flipping through a manila envelope. "By the way , names Whistler." The newly identified Whistler then looks up from the folder and nods to Wolf "You had a good run kid, to bad it ended the way it did."

"That's what you get for playing with demons." Wolf says with a small smirk on his lips. Then his face turns serious and he asks with a raised eyebrow "Now what is this about it not having to be this way?"

Whistler leans back in his chair, steeples his fingers and looks at the ceiling. "Ok, what do you know about alternate realities?"

"I know they exist. As shown by that Vampire Willow thing. Other then that only what I have read in sci-fi books."

"Ok then, let me give you the condensed version. Every decision ever made by anyone results in an alternate reality being formed. Most of these alternates have so little to differentiate them from the main stream of reality that they simply don't have enough… oomph I guess, to keep itself going. They then collapse back into the main and cease to exist. But others, based on decisions more important then which shoes to wear or what to eat for lunch, stick around and possibly become another branch of the stream." With a look at Wolf to see if he is following along and getting a nod Whistler continues. "And every once in a while these streams cross paths further along and merge for a bit before separating again. At these mergers it is possible for things or people to be switched from one stream to the other." With a sigh Whistler leans forward and pokes his finger at the folder in front of him. "Do you realize that you have averted more Apocalypses then any other singular person in recorded history? To give you an idea of the scope of this accomplishment, second in line is Ms. Summers." Sitting back in his chair again Whistler pulls at his earlobe and says "With your death your world has lost it's last Hero, it is destroyed within 3 months. Demons take over and humans become just another extinct species of primate."

"This is a good thing how?" Wolf says as he roots through his jacket pockets. Pulling out a pack of cigarettes he lights one with his zippo and puts the pack back.

"It isn't. It's Game Over, but this game has a reset button. Or to be more specific a New Game button." Whistler opens the folder and pulls out a photograph. "In the space of 5 short years we lost all of our major players for the side of good. The PTB's looked into the events, fondled some chicken guts, read some tea leaves, whatever it is that they do and found that their was one person that was responsible for the whole thing. They could have swung the whole disastrous sequence of events another way, a way in which good prevails." With a flip of his wrist he sends the picture sliding across the table to stop in front of Wolf. Wolf picks up the photograph and then looks to Whistler in confusion.

"Faith? She's serving 115 years for 12 counts of Murder One. How the hell is she supposed to help?"

"Not your Faith, she's to far gone, after the assassination attempts by the Council and the lack of support from anyone in Sunnydale she closed herself off and there is no way to save her." Holding up one finger Whistler states. "In this reality that we have our eyes on, we believe that she can still be reached. The time frames of the two realities are different, while it is 2012 here it is still 1997 there. Buffy hasn't died for the first time. Angel hasn't lost his soul. We have the chance to step in at the very beginning and see if we can mold things in such a way so that most of the major disasters are averted."

"Sounds to good to be true."

"It's not as easy as I am making it sound. Like I said this is the condensed version." With a sigh Whistler scratches his head and continues, "The original 'plan' was for Buffy and Xander to be stabilizing effects on Faith. Buffy was to have influence through their Slayer bond and Xander through their similar histories. But, by the time that Faith got to Sunnydale, Buffy was locked up tighter then a nunnery behind the walls that she raised to deal with the whole Angelus matter. Xander couldn't reach her on his own, unfortunately. Faith needed both influences to make it work."

"So, what am I supposed to do in 1997? Faith won't be called for another year or so. What can I do then that will help her later?"

"Ok, here's the plan." Whistler gets out of the chair and starts to pace behind it. "Buffy and Angel. Never really a useful combo. They worked well together but they caused each other more grief then good. We thought that giving him an emotional anchor in Sunnydale would keep him on the up and up and active in the fight , unlike the previous 80 years where he moped around America. Unfortunately that anchor got cut away and took his soul with it. Bad thing that." Wolf snorts at that understatement. "We're thinkin' that maybe we can bypass that whole… situation, and lay a good ground work for Faith's future stability."

Wolf realizes that Whistler really likes to hear himself talk and decides to cut to the chase. "And this involves me how?"

Whistler starts at the interuption, "Ahh, yes, well… we need you to arrange for Xander and Buffy to get together."

"What? Get together? As in going steady, class ring all that jazz?"

"Yes, It solves the issue with Buffy's emotional turmoil over Angelus, since he wouldn't have been unleashed during the whole Judge thing. So she won't be closed off after having to send him to Hell. This will also give Xander more self-confidence and therefore he'll be more then able to reach out and help."

"That's your plan?"

"Yeah."

"You want me to play matchmaker?"

"Yeah."

"Do you realize how silly that sounds?"

"Yeah."

Wolf sighs and grounds out the cigarette under his heel. "Ok, how do I do this?"


	4. Differences

To Err is Human Part Four - See part one for disclaimers

~~~~

**Sunnydale, CA March 1997**

It is a calm spring morning and the sun is just peaking its way across the horizon. The lights red and golden hues slipping and spilling across the small town streets like water across ancient river rocks, its light driving away the last silken strands of night. The sound of bird song rises above the whispering wind, laying false claim to peace and tranquility. 

An event is about to occur in this small town. This event will be the start of many others, all falling into place like dominoes. One event leading unto another until the claim made in the early morning light may not be so false.

This event starts in one of Sunnydale's many cemeteries with a simple sound. The sound that breaks the early morning calm is a crackle, as if someone was tearing a piece of paper. A small thunderclap swiftly follows and suddenly a line of ebon appears in the sky. All sound ceases as the air becomes charged with a feeling of anticipation, as if the very town itself eagerly awaits what going to happen next. Then a new sound occurs, as if a God was taking in a lungful of air. The vacuum that exists behind the ebon strip of darkness has begun to feed its voracious appetite, twigs and leaves swirling in the morning light as they are sucked into the cold, forbidding darkness of the void.

As suddenly as the inrush of air starts, it stops, and again there is only silence in the graveyard. Then the line of darkness in the sky widens. From out of the blackness steps a man, who is clad in black from head to toe. Black jacket, black pants, black shirt, black boots and a heavy black bag. No color at all except for his mane of auburn hair and the paleness of his skin. 

As the man settles firmly on the ground the ebon portal snaps shut and the crackling feeling of expectancy in the air dissipates. Letting the duffel thump to the ground the man reaches up and pushes his sunglasses up onto the top of his head and takes a good look at the town he hasn't seen in 7 years.

"Home sweet Hellmouth." With a snort at that thought, Wolf pulls the sunglasses back down over his eyes and picks up the duffel. Settling it on his shoulder he heads down the hill towards the gates into town.

~~~~

It only takes Wolf five minutes to reach Buffy's house, he had forgotten how small this town actually was. In the front lawn the For Sale sign with its Sold marker stands next to the driveway and through the front window Wolf sees boxes piled in the front room. 

Glancing around to make sure no one was watching Wolf goes around the side of the house and drops his bag at the base of the tree under Buffy's window. With an easy leap he grabs the lowest branch and pulls himself up into the tree and with another glance at the surroundings for any curious passerby he looks into the window. 

Boxes are piled haphazardly in the corner of the room and odds and ends are scattered around the floor. In the bed opposite the window sleeps the Slayer. With her hair laid out across the pillows she looks even younger then her 16 years. Sighing to himself Wolf drops down from the tree and picks up his bag.

"I am 32 years old. I have stopped more apocalypses then anyone else according to someone in the know. I am a werewolf fully in charge of my lycanthropy. And what am I doing? Playing Matchmaker to a pair of 16 year olds… There is something majorly wrong with this picture." Shaking his head at the knuckle ball Fate threw him Wolf then smiles at a stray thought and says to himself with a chuckle "Better then being dead I guess."

~~~~

Three cigarettes later the front door opens and he hears Joyce yell up the stairs "Come on girls, you don't want to be late your first day do you?"

"Girls?" Wolf asks himself.

A few seconds later he gets his answer. Joyce walks out the front door followed by Buffy and… Dawn? A ten year old version of her, but its Dawn none the less. Apparently there are a few differences between this reality and his. One is the brunette getting into the backseat of the SUV across the street. Wolf wonders absently what else may be different as he shrugs the duffel onto his shoulder and lopes off after the vehicle.

~~~~

Getting to the high school a few minutes ahead of the Summers, Wolf takes a position across the street from the front entrance and pushes his sunglasses back up onto his head. Mentally focusing for a few seconds allows his eyesight to sharpen and he zooms in on the front steps. Xander has told this story enough times to know how its supposed to go down. 

And here we go… Buffy's getting out of the jeep, talks to her mother for a moment and heads up the stairs. And from stage left enters Xander, weaving his way in and out of the crowd, badly I might add Wolf thinks with a smirk for his old friend. 

Contact.

Xander sees Buffy and… Ouch that looks like it hurt.


End file.
